


give me mercy no more

by mercuryhatter



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Edgeplay, F/F, Femslash, Hair-pulling, Other, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Strap-Ons, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Trans Character, Wings, over a desk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 21:50:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryhatter/pseuds/mercuryhatter
Summary: it's an open question who won this round, really.





	give me mercy no more

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A Corner Office with a View](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17470118) by [mirawonderfulstar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirawonderfulstar/pseuds/mirawonderfulstar). 



> gender note: I knew what body arrangements I wanted before I decided on the pronouns, but I saw someone recently talking about how they wanted more GO femslash on tumblr and figured, why not. 
> 
> this fic was inspired by Mir's A Corner Office With a View.

The desk, a dark mahogany behemoth, dominated even a room as large as Crowley’s office. Against the white walls and carpet and vast windows, it made itself unmistakably the centerpiece of the space, an impressive feat against the arrangements of ivy and cryptanthus at the base of the windows that had always drawn Aziraphale’s eye before. She sized it up, trailing a hand over the shining surface before settling in the (supremely ergonomic) desk chair.

 

“I think this is the only bit of your interior decorating I’ve ever agreed with, dear,” Aziraphale said. Crowley, still leaning in the doorway, could see why: even with her unkempt hair and embarrassing sweater, she somehow looked like she was exactly where she was meant to be behind that desk. Something about it brought out her presence, so much more formidable than most ever guessed, in a way she was normally able to obscure behind the absent-minded front she put up. Crowley was reminded very briefly of Mary Hodges before she firmly shoved that thought from her head and slithered forward to perch herself on the edge of the desk.

 

“Suits you,” she said. While Aziraphale was distracted exploring the drawers, Crowley slid the foot or so required to sit directly in front of her, slipping a leg to Aziraphale’s other side before the angel could react. Aziraphale smiled and patted the inside of Crowley’s thigh, then stilled as she reached the lower left drawer.

 

“Oh, _I_ see,” she said, almost scolding as she drew out the toy. Like everything else Crowley owned, it was sleek and expensive, a dark burgundy that, had the toy been anything other than what it was, would have gone perfectly as an accent color to the desk. “Did you even need a new desk, or has this been a deeply elaborate temptation from the beginning?”

 

“Well, you know bespoke isn’t my usual style when it comes to wiles, but I thought for you I’d make an exception?” Crowley couldn’t stop the uptick of her voice at the end of the sentence and just barely succeeded at keeping her dark cheekbones turning darker. For anyone else, she could have pulled that line off without a hitch. But no matter how many times she and Aziraphale did this, no matter how long they had been together, Crowley could never quite shake off the edge of nervous energy at the knowledge that Aziraphale would _last._ Unlike any human, she would remain, and that pushed the stakes so much higher.

 

The converse of that feeling, of course, was the knowledge that no matter how Crowley wobbled on the high wire between them, Aziraphale would always be a steadying hand, and this time was no exception. Crowley closed her eyes and leaned into the slow kiss Aziraphale gave, insinuating her ankles behind Aziraphale in the chair to pull her closer.

 

“In that case, I believe you’re in the wrong place, not to mention somewhat overdressed,” Aziraphale said when it ended, as if the conversation hadn’t paused at all. Crowley slid off the desk a little too eagerly. Before she could even begin to undress, Aziraphale had clicked her fingers, leaving herself naked and Crowley only in her black silk button-down and cotton undershirt. The rest of Crowley's suit folded itself neatly on the floor next to Aziraphale's clothes as Aziraphale pushed the desk chair back and away.

 

“Now…” she was murmuring, mostly to herself as she maneuvered the straps on the harness. Crowley watched her fumble for a moment, then slid to her knees to arrange the harness for Aziraphale. She kissed at the exposed skin of Aziraphale’s hips and thighs, the soft roll of her belly, licked a stripe up the toy cock and landed with an open-mouthed kiss right above the ring that held it in place. Aziraphale stroked her hair as she worked, rubbing with her fingertips at the stubble above and behind Crowley’s ears before working her whole hand through the longer hair at the top of her head.

 

“That’s enough, dear,” she said when the harness was secure. “Stand up.” Crowley did, and they kissed chest to chest for a moment before Aziraphale firmly turned Crowley to face the desk, buried a hand in her hair, squeezed, and pushed her down.

 

All the air left Crowley’s lungs at once as she followed Aziraphale’s push to land facedown on the desk. Her subsequent breaths began to come faster as Aziraphale’s hand twisted in her hair, turning her face to the side. Aziraphale’s other hand trailed slowly down the entire length of her spine, from the base of her skull to her sacrum, where Aziraphale’s fingers were suddenly warm and wet to begin working on Crowley’s entrance. Crowley felt her cock throb under the desk-- the height of it held her perfectly at the bones of her hips, trapping her cock underneath the wood where it couldn’t be touched except for the occasional graze of the tip against the underside of the desk. Crowley rocked her hips anyway, pushing back on Aziraphale’s fingers until Aziraphale removed them to hold Crowley’s hips still against the desk.

 

“Impatient,” she chided, and Crowley huffed irritably, hands flexing on the top of the desk.

 

“Tease,” she snapped back, earning a tug on her hair that made her groan.

 

“What did you call it? The bespoke approach?” Aziraphale asked, and when her hand went back inside Crowley it was with three fingers this time that scissored and twisted. Whatever Crowley might have answered was lost to the incoherent hiss of her breath, and then the near-shout when Aziraphale _finally_ withdrew her fingers and pushed in with the toy. Crowley was _ready_ , shouts of affirmation half-formed on the tip of her tongue, but once buried to the hilt, Aziraphale didn’t move.

 

Crowley groaned and hit the desk weakly with her palm, trying to push back, but between the desk and Aziraphale’s weight she was pinned motionless. Aziraphale started to circle her hips, slow, tiny movements. On each upward tilt, Crowley’s cock brushed the underside of the desk, and she squeezed her eyes shut in frustration-- it would have been better to be totally untouched.

“For fuck’ss _sssake_ , _angel--”_ she gasped, reaching back with one hand to grip Aziraphale’s hip, but she didn’t have the leverage to make Aziraphale change her pace. Aziraphale leaned over Crowley’s back, her breasts and belly warm against Crowley’s spine, and nipped gently at the back of Crowley’s ear.

 

“I have you,” she murmured, so softly that Crowley wouldn’t have been able to hear it if Aziraphale’s lips weren’t right next to her ear. “Trust me, dearest.”

 

Aziraphale kept her movements small and slow until she was brushing a tear from the edge of Crowley’s squeezed-shut eye. Crowley could feel the desk fogging and sticking under her cheek with her breath. The position had long ceased to be comfortable in any typical sense of the word, hard wood at her hipbones and the protrusions of her shoulders, the twist of her neck under Aziraphale’s unrelenting hand. But eventually, somehow, Crowley felt all of her built-up tension seep from her body, the points of discomfort turning to points of sensation, of light. Aziraphale straightened up as the sweep of relaxation brought Crowley’s wings shimmering into the physical world, draped to either side of the desk, a dark, inky red.

 

That was the moment that Aziraphale pulled her hips back and snapped forward with enough force to bruise Crowley’s hips against the edge of the desk.

 

Crowley’s eyes flew open with a shout, wings snapping tautly up and out. Aziraphale released her hair, thrusting into Crowley with a pulsing rhythm as Crowley pushed herself up onto her hands to take it, braced against the top of the desk, wings fluttering for balance. With her hands now free, Aziraphale was able to slide one hand under Crowley’s shirt, feeling for the small breast until she could gently pinch the nipple between two fingers. The other hand reached around for Crowley’s cock, gripped, and Crowley was gone, crying out as she pushed herself back into the safety of Aziraphale’s arms while she came. She sagged against Aziraphale’s chest and vaguely felt their change of position as Aziraphale took her weight and sat back in the desk chair, pulling Crowley into her lap.

 

When Crowley finally opened her eyes, wiping her leaking eyes on Aziraphale’s shoulder, she realized they were in a cocoon of Aziraphale’s wings, the sunlight filtering through them dark red. Aziraphale was placing gentle, healing fingertips to the bruises on Crowley’s hips, drawing them softly over her scalp, passing them over the cramped muscles in her back and thighs.

 

“Welcome back,” she said when she saw Crowley’s open eyes, smiling indulgently. “I’d say your temptation was a success, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Oh yeah,” Crowley said, voice still thready and breathless. “Points to me for sure.”

 

“Of course, according to the terms of the Arrangement this does mean you owe me a rather large good deed, doesn’t it?” she mused.

 

“Whatever you want,” Crowley said fervently, folding her own wings over Aziraphale’s, darkening the light between them. “Anything. Always.”


End file.
